. ’ ‘That old fool? Why my brother kept him on I shall never know. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. It never has had. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead.
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